A Tangled Web
by LucyEverdeen28
Summary: *Based off of The Amazing Spider-Man movie, but told from Gwen's point of view. Now complete!* As Gwen Stacy befriends classmate Peter Parker, she quickly learns that not everything is as it seems, and finds out just what is at stake for her and Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**I've been wanting to write this fanfic for a long time. I saw The Amazing Spider-Man in theaters when it first came out last summer, and I just adored it. I wanted to write the story from Gwen's point of view. The DVD came out in November, while I was in the middle of NaNoWriMo, and in December I was so busy with schoolwork and Christmas that I had no time to write. So finally, here it is.**

**I will be sticking close to the movie's storyline and writing *mostly* scenes where Gwen is in the movie, with the addition of a few of my own scenes with her talking to family, classmates, etc. I'm not sure how long this will be, but I'm guessing somewhere around ten or twelve chapters. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review––comments/constructive criticism are always helpful when I'm trying to nail a character's personality!**

**Also, I do not own any of the dialogue or scenes in this chapter; that belongs to the creators of the Amazing Spider-Man movie.**

I brush a stray strand of hair from my ponytail and tap my boots on the bench of the picnic table I'm sitting on. Class starts in just a couple minutes, and I'm trying to finish reading the chapter of this book before I have to go inside. But, as usual, it's hard to concentrate with all the other teens talking loudly and being noisy all around me.

I make myself tune them out and focus harder on the book. It's a nonfiction title, actually, about the game cat's cradle. I like to read fiction well enough, though it's hard to find spare time to read nowadays with schoolwork, tutoring a handful of classmates, and my job. I just had to check this out from the school library, though. Grace, a little girl that I babysit, is fascinated by cat's cradle and wants me to learn some new tricks with it.

A buzzing sound in the background breaks my concentration. It's not random kids yelling anymore––everyone is chanting. I can't make out what they're saying. I slam my book shut, frustrated, as the chanting continues even louder. "Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!"

Oh great. Who knows what they're up to now. I swear, my classmates can be such idiots at times. And I don't mean school-wise, I mean people-wise. To me, whether or not you're passing Algebra 2 doesn't matter as long as you have the grace and maturity to treat a person fairly.

Suddenly angered, I shove my book into my backpack, swing it over my shoulder, and hop off the picnic table. I march over to the group of teens a few yards away to see what's going on. Everyone's hunched close together, of course, and I have to squirm past a few people before I can even see the action. I duck under someone's elbow and lift my head just in time to see Flash punching Peter Parker in the jaw.

I wince. My dad's a policeman, so he's taught me how to throw a mean punch. I can tell just by the glimpse I caught that Flash's punch was pretty painful. I hesitate. Should I step forward and try to stop this, or will I be ignored?

I glance around and spot a small-ish kid standing to the side. I don't know his name, but he's in some of my classes. From the way a couple other teens are jeering at him, I can tell that Flash was bullying him before Peter stepped in.

Flash kicks Peter, now lying down on the ground, in the stomach. Peter groans softly. Flash is grinning. "Who wants one more?" he yells to the crowd.

Fine. That's it. I've had enough. Maybe it's just because I've grown up in a family where we believe in justice, or maybe I'm just flat-out stupid to do this. But I step forward, pushing people out of the way, no longer caring about stepping on a few toes or jostling someone's bags.

"Flash!" I search my brain for something to say. Thankfully, my brain works fast and I come up with something. I can't take down Flash with my strength (or lack of), but I can do it easily with words. Humiliation works every time.

I do my best to look calm and collected. "Flash…we still on for after school today? My house, 3:30? I hope you did your homework. Last time, I was…" I tack on a little shudder and a slight shake of the head, "very disappointed in you."

He's mad, I can tell, but what he can do? He glances around nervously, looks back at me, and says quietly, "Okay, move."

But he's not going to do anything else now. I can tell. I push him just a little further, my raised eyebrows a promise of what else I'll say if he doesn't listen. "No, Flash, how about we go to class, hmm? How about it?" I keep my gaze fixed on him.

"Whatever," he mumbles, stalking away. I hide a smile and instead clutch my books closer to my chest. Good thing he listened, because I honestly have no clue what I would have done if he got really angry. I can already tell that my tutoring session with him this afternoon is not going to be fun.

The bell's ringing now and all the other students are heading off to their classes now that the excitement's over. I glance back at Peter to make sure he's okay. He looks a little dazed as he picks himself up, moving slowly and clutching his stomach. I bite my lip. Hopefully he's all right.

Peter and I both have first period together, so I watch him as he stumbles into class just a couple minutes later. He takes his seat, one row behind me and to the left. I peek back at him. He's hunched down on his desk with his arms crossed and his head resting on top of them.

"I thought that was great, what you did out there," I blurt out before I change my mind about saying something. "It was stupid…but it was great. You should probably go to the nurse, you might have a concussion." _Oh great, I'm rambling! _I make myself smile. "What's your name?"

Peter stares at me, looking a little stunned. No surprise. We've never really spoken before, except for a few polite exchanges or questions about homework. "You don't know my name?"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "No, I know your name." Oh no. That didn't sound stalker-ish, did it? I quickly clarify. "I just want to know if _you _know your name."

"Peter. Parker. Peter Parker," he stammers out.

"Okay, good." I'm probably blushing like crazy by now, so I turn around and face front. But then I glance back one more time and add, "I'd still go to the nurse, though."

He squints slightly at me. "You're Gwen, right?"

My inner self is screaming, _He knows my name! He knows my naaame! _But I make myself nod casually, as if it's no big deal. "Gwen Stacy."

He nods as if the name is familiar to him. I almost say something else, but the teacher is beginning her lecture now. I stare straight ahead and take notes, scribbling like crazy even though I'm barely focusing. No, my mind is now completely focused on the shy, quiet boy behind me as I wonder when, if ever, we will talk again.

**Thoughts/comments/constructive criticism? I really would love help on this. The next chapter should be up in either one week or two, depending on how busy I get with schoolwork. Thanks so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took so long to update! I was sick with the flu and wasn't able to write, and then I had to work like crazy to catch up on all the schoolwork I missed. So not fun. Anyway, here's the second chapter!**

**These are all scenes from the movie; however, in the next chapter I'll have a short scene that I made up to fit the story. :) Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

I take a deep breath, tapping my nails on my clipboard. I have to lead a tour through the labs for a group of students in just a few minutes. Strangely, I'm a little nervous. I've always felt comfortable at Oscorp and enjoyed my job, but being around other teens makes me jittery. I don't want to mess up and risk looking like an idiot.

Man. My fingernails are really chipped, I notice as I tap them. When did they get so chipped? I should probably paint them soon. Dark purple nails look much more professional than short, chipped nails. _Okay, focus. Aside from your nails, your appearance is very professional and normal-looking. Just chill. _I look at the clock and realize that my few minutes are up. It's show time.

I walk out into the main entry room, praying that there's no one I know in the group, because I'm certain I'm going to mess up or embarrass myself. I did skim the list of names earlier and I didn't recognize anyone, but you never know.

I look up at the group and paste on a smile that, hopefully, looks enthusiastic rather than manic. "Welcome to Oscorp. My name's Gwen Stacy, I'm a senior at Midtown Science and I'm also a head intern to Dr. Connors. I'll be with you for the duration of your visit. Where I go, you go. That's the basic rule." I shrug and smile again, feeling like an idiot. "If you remember that, all will be fine. If you forget that––" I cut off abruptly.

"Listen! Tell them Rodrigo Guevara is here! Please just tell them Rodrigo Guevara is here! My name's Rodrigo!" On the floor below, a teen is screaming at the top of his lungs as a couple guards drag him out. Okaaay. I wrinkle my brow, wondering what all the commotion is about, but at least it proves my point.

"I guess I don't need to tell you what happens if you forget. Shall we?" I lead them into a lab room. My heartbeat is actually settling and going back to normal. This is going really smoothly so far, thank goodness. "Come around this way." I come to a halt as Dr. Connors walks up and joins us.

"Good afternoon, Gwen," he says in his dignified, gentle voice.

"Dr. Connors." I smile warmly. This may be going well, but I'm glad to hand it over to him so he can do the talking.

"Welcome. My name is Dr. Curtis Connors," he says. My mind drifts as he continues with his usual introduction, which I've heard so many times I practically have it memorized. He ends with a joke, and the teens all laugh.

Then the doctor clears his throat and says, quietly but distinctly, "I want to create a world without weakness. Anyone care to venture a guess just how?" A brief pause before one brave soul raises his hand. "Yes?"

"Stem cells?" the boy says uncertainly.

"Promising. But the solution I'm thinking of is more…radical. No one?"

Well, this isn't a surprise. People can rarely guess the answers to the doctor's questions.

"Cross-species genetics," a voice from the back speaks up.

My eyebrows go up. The crowd parts to make way for the speaker. I have to hold back a gasp when I see Peter Parker's face. Yeah. My heartbeat? It's going super fast again now. I look down at my clipboard, positive that he's not on the list. I would have noticed if he was on it, I'm sure.

"Person gets Parkinson's when the brain cells that produce dopamine start to disappear," Peter starts off hesitantly.

I frantically scan over the list. No Peter Parker is listed. I knew it! I look up. So what is he doing here? How on earth did he get in? I watch him as he shifts awkwardly on his feet, nervous with all the attention on him.

"But a zebra fish has the ability to regenerate cells on command. If you could somehow give this ability to the woman you're talking about, that's that. She's…she's curing herself," Peter finishes.

I have to give it to him. He really knows what he's talking about.

"Yeah, you just have to look past the gills on her neck," a student jokes. Everyone laughs.

But I can tell Dr. Connors is impressed. "And you are?" he asks, curious.

I cut in before Peter can answer. He'll just make things for worse for himself. "One of Midtown Science's best and brightest."

The doctor stares at me. "Really?"

I nod. "Second in his class." Great, I don't sound obsessive about him again, do I? It was bad enough the other day when we were talking in class and I made a total fool of myself. I seriously hope that my crush on him isn't totally obvious.

"Second?" Peter says.

I force a tight-lipped smile and nod. He's wearing glasses, these really cute black frames. Where did he get them? He's never worn glasses before. "Yeah."

"Sure about that?"

I'm first in class, so yeah. I drop the smile. "Pretty sure."

We stare at each other for a moment, and just when I think it couldn't get any more awkward, I'm saved by the ringing of Dr. Connors's phone. Thank. Goodness.

"I'm afraid duty calls," the doctor states. I'll leave you in the more-than-capable hands of Miss Stacy. Nice meeting you all."

I take a deep breath. "If you'd like to gather round." I motion for the students to look at something, but my attention is no longer on them. I'm not really watching them, I'm watching Peter. He leaves the group, and I quickly take off after him.

"Hi," I say. _Yeah, that's totally a great conversation starter. Could you sound any less intelligent? _

He turns and faces me, his face expressionless.

I catch his nametag badge out of the corner of my eye. "What are you doing here, Rodrigo?" There, that's a smart reply, with just a touch of sarcasm. Much better.

He smiles nervously like he has no idea what I'm talking about. Then he glances down at his badge and realizes what I meant. "Oh, yeah."

I smile back without meaning to. _Look tough, Gwen! You're going to look like a freak if you don't stop with all the crazy smiling._

"I work here. I don't," he stammers out in a rush. "I was going to say I work here, but it seems like you do, in fact, work here. So you know that I don't."

Yeah. This has definitely progressed past 'awkward' territory. "You following me?" I say, mostly joking, just curious to see what his reaction is. Not that I don't watch him every day at school.

"No, I'm not following you, no, I'm not. I had no idea you worked here."

It's kind of cute how he rambles on in long sentences. But I make myself toughen up. "Then why would you be here?"

"I just snuck in because…I love science."

Hey! We have something in common! That's the first step towards any relationship, right? However, I raise my eyebrows and look skeptical. It's possible he's just saying this to have an easy way out. "You love it?"

"I'm passionate about it," Peter says intensely, his eyes drilling into me.

Okay. I believe him. Besides, he wouldn't be second in class if he didn't like science. I glance behind me to make sure no one else is hearing our conversation. "So you snuck in––? I have to lead this tour group."

"I know."

"I'll ask you more about this later. Do _not _get me in trouble." I give him a warning look.

"I promise you I won't," he says softly.

"Stay with the group." I hold back a sigh. My earlier nervousness has dissipated, but I still really do not feel like showing the group around. I walk back to them. "All right, guys? I'm going to take you to the…" my mind briefly scrambles for the right answer, "bioreactor room now." I lead them away, scolding myself silently. I've got it bad for this guy when I can't even remember how to lead a tour group.

About a half hour later, the tour is winding up. I had to struggle to stay calm through the rest of it, because for some reason, Peter didn't stay with us. Where on earth has he been? Then I see him walking down the hallway through the glass wall.

I stride over to him, dreading this conversation. I thought he wouldn't risk getting me in trouble, that he could be trusted. Now I don't know what to think about him.

Peter smiles when I approach him. He does this a lot when he's worried, it seems. At least I don't have to feel so bad about the fact that, most of the time, I smile right back at him.

Only not now. Right now, I'm mad. I told him precisely what to do and he didn't listen. "All right, give me the badge." I hold my hand out expectantly. "Give it to me."

He hands it to me, looking apologetic. "Sorry."

Whatever. I don't want to hear his apologies right now. I'm just plain-out annoyed. I had thought he was a good guy, after standing up to Flash and making such good grades. But why would he be sneaking around like this if he is? I snatch the badge from his hand and stalk off, feeling bitterly disappointed in him.

"Aaah!" he cries.

I whirl around. Peter's clutching a hand to his neck, looking like he's in pain. What on earth? But I pivot back around and continue my hurried pace, determined to forget all about him. If he's going to act this way, then he's not worth my time.

**Aaand, that's the end of this chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I get ridiculously excited whenever I get a new review/favorite/follow, so thanks for all your support. :)**

**I'm trying something new with this chapter; I've written a scene that I invented on my own, rather than taking the next scene from the movie. This scene is a tutoring session between Gwen and Flash, and it's about Gwen finding out more about Peter. This takes place a day after the last chapter. **

"Is this right?" Flash asks, chewing on his pencil.

I jerk back to attention. My mind has totally been in the clouds today. I take a look at the equation scribbled on Flash's notebook and try not to cringe. His handwriting is so messy that it gives me a headache trying to read it. I point at a number near the end. "Is this a two or a five?"

He gives me a strange look. "It's a two."

I slide the notebook across the table to him. "Then yes, you solved it correctly."

"Okay, good." Flash flips his algebra workbook open to the next page. "I don't understand how to solve this equation either. It makes no sense."

I sigh. I feel bad that I'm so out of it today. Usually, my tutoring sessions are fun. I like explaining how things work and helping other people. And tutoring Flash isn't so bad either. He might act tough at school, but he really needs help in algebra and chemistry, so he and I are willing to put up with each other.

But yeah, I've been pretty distracted today with thoughts of Peter. I can't get him out of my head. He was at school today, but we didn't speak at all. I can't decide whether or not I'm mad at him.

"Gwen?" Flash taps his pencil on the table impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Sorry." I glance at the clock on our dining room wall. It's only 4:30. My dad isn't home yet, my mom is doing the laundry, and my siblings are upstairs in their rooms. If no one else is around, this might be a good time to ask Flash what he knows about Peter. I don't know why, but I don't want anyone in my family overhearing us.

I quickly explain the equation, and after waiting a few minutes while he solves it, I speak up. "Can I ask you a question, Flash?"

He rolls his eyes. "You just did."

I roll my eyes right back at him to show my irritation. "Funny. Listen, what do you know about Peter Parker?"

"Parker?" Flash leans back in his chair contemplatively, chewing on his pencil once again. "He's not a bad kid. Just a little strange. I mean, he had it tough when he was little, you know? Why do you ask?"

What happened when he was little? Something with his parents? I know Peter lives with his aunt and uncle. "Just wondering. What do you mean, he had it tough?"

Flash eyes me curiously. "His parents left when he was pretty young and ended up being killed in a plane crash. So he lives with his aunt and uncle."

"And he has no siblings or close friends," I murmur, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

Flash chuckles. "Yeah, he's pretty much a loner. That's why I say he's a bit strange."

I look back up into Flash's eyes. I can't imagine not having anyone in my life that I could talk to. No wonder Peter's so quiet and shy. "But––do you have something against him?" I try to phrase my questions carefully, not wanting to upset Flash. I need him to answer me. "Sometimes, it seems like you guys have a bit of history. Like he's personally done something to you."

Flash heaves a sigh. "Peter and I used to be friends, I guess, back in elementary school. But we went our separate ways a few years ago. That's all."

"Why?" I ask, confused and annoyed. It's so difficult to talk to a guy about other people. Girls will gossip nonstop, but guys never seem to have much to say.

He rolls his eyes. "Why do you think? He turned into a geek. All he cares about is school."

I feel relieved. "So he's a good student, right?" I ask, confirming what I'm already pretty sure of. "He makes good grades. He's honest. He doesn't, like, cheat, or sneak around, or bully people."

Flash busts out laughing. "Um, duh. Yeah. Have you seen the dude? He's probably never snuck out or done anything illegal in his pathetic little life."

"Sneaked," I correct automatically. "Okay. Thanks, Flash. I guess you'd better head out now that we've gone over everything."

He shrugs and gets up from the chair, tossing his textbooks into his backpack. "Why do you need to know so much about Parker anyway?"

I wince internally as I walk with him to the door. "I'm trying to figure him out, that's all." I make a motion with my hand. "He stood up to you the other day when you were bullying that kid. I just wanted to know why."

Flash narrows his eyes. "Yeah. And I'd prefer to keep any comments about my homework private from now on, got that?"

Ah, he's referring to me shutting him up with my comments about his disappointing homework. "And I'd prefer to not see you poking fun at an innocent kid from now on." I look evenly into his eyes. "Got that? Now I'll see you again in two days for our next tutoring session. Do your homework, and you won't have anything to worry about." I smile sweetly as I shut the door on him.

Now that he's gone, I head up to my room to finish my own homework. But before that, I think about what I've learned about Peter. Maybe I should give him a second chance. After all, Flash admitted that while he doesn't like Peter, he's not a bad person.

Okay, perhaps I misjudged Peter. He _did _sneak into Oscorp, though. I don't know exactly why. But maybe it wasn't just to make trouble. Maybe it was for reasons I don't understand.

I'll give him another chance. I'm sure he's not bad or troubled or anything like that. There's something about him that's sweet, and awkward, and adorably dorky. Whatever it is, I want to know more about Peter Parker.

**Thoughts? I hope this turned out okay. I really wanted to do a transitional sort of scene that shows why Gwen changes her mind, since back at the Oscorp scene she seems upset, but in the next scene she acts totally fine. **

**By the way, the next scene coming up is one of my favorites from the movie. It's with Peter and Gwen talking in the hallway, and all the funny "'maybe sometime we could do this, or if you don't feel like it, we could do something else' 'yeah, either one'" lines, lol. It's so cute and awkward and I can't wait to write it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm so glad you guys are excited for this scene/chapter. I had so much fun writing it. Hope you enjoy! **

I linger at the edge of the hallway and see a middle-aged man talking to Peter. My heartbeat is so loud, it's pounding in my ears and I can't hear anything they're saying. What am I doing? I should be hurrying off to my next class like a responsible student. I should be staying far away from Peter Parker, who just got into major trouble with the principal. I should _not _be waiting for a chance to talk to him.

I've calmed down enough to snap out of my little panicking session, and I take another peek at Peter, whose back is to me. I try not to eavesdrop, but I can't help myself. "She looks familiar," the man, who I'm sure is his uncle, murmurs curiously.

Does he mean me? I feel a faint blush on my cheeks. Just then, Peter turns and glances at me. I quickly turn my head, unsure of where to look.

"She's the girl on your computer!" Peter's uncle announces triumphantly.

I look up, a smile quirking on my lips when I see Peter frantically shaking his head. But his uncle glances over to me and says loudly, "He's got you on his computer. I'm his probation officer." Then, patting Peter on the shoulder, he mutters, "Don't forget Aunt May."

Peter laughs and calls out, "Okay." He spins on his heel to face me. He nods and motions at the retreating figure of his uncle. "He's a character. That's my uncle. He's a pathological liar. He thought you were someone else."

I'm practically dying of internal laughter, but I keep a straight face and decide to mess with him. Walking closer, I crinkle my brow and pretend to look hurt. "Oh man, you don't have me on your computer?"

Immediately Peter straightens up and rushes to correct himself. "Well, yeah, I mean, like, I took a photo of the debate team, and you're in the debate team, so…" He gestures. "So he must have seen––I was touching up stuff––" He makes another vague hand motion.

I force a brief grin, suddenly genuinely worried. "Touching up stuff?"

"Come on." He laughs, sort of realizing that I've been giving him a hard time. "I was…I'm not gonna answer that."

For a few wonderful and way too short seconds, we both laugh together. It feels good to laugh. So much of my life has been full of stress lately. But I sober up as I remember exactly why Peter's uncle was here. "Did you get expelled?"

"No, no," he rushes to assure me. "I didn't get expelled. I got community service."

I nod as we fall into silence. _Way to cut the conversation short, Gwen. _I take a step back, ready to walk away, but he speaks up rapidly.

"Um, so, uh, you want to––I don't know…um?" He bites his lip, at a complete loss for words.

Why are his eyes such a chocolate-y brown? I can't stop staring into them. I should probably look away, but I can't. Darn it, it's like he's hypnotized me! But the thing is, I don't _want _to look away.

Wait, wait. Question. What was he asking? My mind quickly catches up and processes what he just said. I have to choke back a gasp.

Does he mean what I think he means? Does he mean go out on a date? Ugh, for once, could he just speak plainly and not dance around the question?! "Want to what?" I ask casually, despite the fact that my heart's beating abnormally fast.

"I don't know. Just, uh…" He stares at me. "Um." He scratches his head. "I don't know, we could, uh…or we could do something else, or we could––if you don't feel like, we could––"

"Yeah," I blurt out way too eagerly, though admittedly I have no clue what I'm saying yes to.

"Yeah?" He looks hopeful, in this sweetly boyish way.

"Yeah, either one," I say with a teasing grin.

He grins back at me. "Really?"

"Sure." Do I sound too enthusiastic? Or worse, not excited enough? This is so not fair. I'm a smart, straight-A student. I have an answer for every question in class. I always turn in my homework on time. But I am completely clueless when it comes to boys.

"Okay. All right, good. Sounds good." He's doing that half-grin thingy again.

"Cool." Why can't I form coherent sentences? I try to think of something to say and come up with a total blank.

We both fidget. It's awkward again, but in a good way.

"Okay. I can't right now, I can't right now," Peter says quickly.

"Yeah, no," I interject with a fake laugh. We're both kind of talking over each other now. What does he mean, not right now? Is that a good sign or a bad sign?

"I'm so busy right now."

"I know, me too, ugh." I laugh again. Since when did I turn into one of those girls who never stops giggling? It's like when I was constantly smiling before, only worse.

I give a half-wave, stepping away. Better leave now before I make my crush on him any more totally obvious. But hey, _he_. _likes_. _me_. _back_. Right? Kind of? He must, if he's sort of kind of maybe asking me on a date. Or am I reading way too much into this? This is torture. How do all the other girls in school deal with boy problems like this without going mad?

All these thoughts whirl through my head in the tiny second as I start walking off, but he calls after me, "But uh, maybe, uh…"

"Yeah, just, you know." I spin around and smile what I sincerely hope is a normal, and not maniac-looking, smile. "Some other…"

"Time, all right." He laughs as he finishes my sentence. "Okay. Bye."

"All right." I feel both insanely thrilled and scared as I walk off. At some point in our conversation, we probably should've stopped babbling and clarified exactly what we were talking about. I still can't be sure if he likes me.

_Okay, _I decide as I continue walking down the hall. _I'll glance back. If he's still there watching me, then that means he likes me. If he's already gone, then he doesn't like me, _I tell myself firmly. Best to settle this once and for all.

I dart a hesitant glance back. Peter's staring after me. He hasn't even moved from where we were standing. I hurriedly turn my head back around, but I can't stop the crazy grin on my face, or the butterflies spreading through my stomach.

So this is what it's like to be in love.

**Thoughts on this? I had fun writing this, but I would love to know if you guys think Peter and Gwen are in-character. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm kind of skipping all over the place in this chapter––sort of, anyway. This chapter covers a fairly long time period, because it's when Peter's uncle dies and Peter starts to really become Spider-Man. But as this is Gwen's POV, I mostly stuck to little snippets from the movie where she sees Peter in school, and just improvised a little on my own.**

**Quick question––does anyone know how much time passes over the period of this chapter? I went with a month because I thought it made more sense for the story. But, if you think it's different, please let me know.**

I feel numb when I hear the news.

I never knew Peter's uncle. Didn't even know his name until I heard what happened to him. But I did see him that one time, talking to Peter after the incident with the principal. He'd been so nice and friendly, and I could tell that he cared about Peter. He hadn't been yelling or angry, like some parents are when they find out their kid was sent to the principal. He'd been gentle and understanding with Peter.

I can only imagine Peter's pain. Losing his parents at such a young age, then losing his uncle as a teenager. It must be like having your father die twice. I bite my lip, thankful that my own dad is still safe even though he has such a dangerous job.

Of course, Peter isn't in school at all this week. I don't know what to do. Should I text him? No, that's too impersonal. Call him? He might not feel like talking. Go visit? Maybe that's intruding too much. I want to comfort him and be there for him, but I don't know how.

So I wait. Maybe he needs to be alone right now. But I'll be here to support him as soon as he's able to come back to school.

On Monday next week, he's back.

No one told me specifically. But I can tell because people are quiet and hushed. And last week when Peter wasn't at school, everyone was talking about his uncle and how sad his death was. Now, everyone's avoiding the topic.

I see him on my way to lunch––we don't have any classes together until the afternoon. Walking rapidly down the hallway, I wonder what to say to him. Then, all those thoughts flee my head and I catch my breath.

Peter's holding Flash against a locker. I press my lips together. Did Flash say something to upset him? Or did Peter take something the wrong way and get mad? Whatever it is, I fervently hope that they won't try to fight.

For a tense second, I watch them. I prepare myself to intervene if need be. Fortunately, I don't have to. Peter at last drops his arms and steps away, stalking down the hallway in my direction. He hasn't seen me yet.

I swallow. _Now or never, Gwen. Be a good friend, or whatever it is you are to Peter. _I take a step over so I'm practically in front of him, forcing him to look up. Seeing the raw pain in his eyes, I can't think of a single word to say that would comfort him. So I don't use words. Instead, I show him that I care.

"Peter," I murmur, wrapping my arms around him. It's just a hug, but it conveys everything I don't have the words for. After a second, he breaks away and glances at me, then walks off.

This time, I don't freak out over analyzing what the look in his eyes meant when he left, or why he pulled away, or anything like that. This isn't about me; it's about him and what he's going through. Right now, he needs time to heal.

I steal glances at him in class this week. He doesn't say anything to me, but I smile whenever I pass him in the hallway, letting him know that I'm here if he wants to talk. But I get more and more worried about him. He seems so lonely.

In our last class Friday afternoon, I take a peek behind my shoulder. He's wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled over his head, and his hand is frantically writing something down. My eyes narrow. No, not writing. The rapid movement of his fingers is something different. He's drawing, totally spacing out on what the teacher's saying.

I turn away, and repeat what I've been telling myself all week. Give him time.

Another two weeks go by without any talking except a quick "hi" in the halls now and then. Peter's still pretty quiet. His grades are slipping, I've noticed. It's been about a month now since his uncle died. I wonder if the pain still hurts as much.

I have an idea. Normally, my ideas can be terrible, but I think this is a good one. I want to invite Peter over for dinner. He's hardly interacted with anyone at school, simply because most people do their best to avoid him. Maybe if he comes to dinner and gets the chance to talk some, it'll help. I'm not sure how, but I hope it will.

There he is, just a little ahead of me in the hallway. I run to catch up with him.

Peter's listening to his iPod again. There's nothing wrong with that, but I'm quite aware that he didn't do that before his uncle died. I guess it's his way of shutting the world out. "Hi," I say tentatively.

"Hey." He pulls an earbud out. "How's it going?"

"Where you headed?" I ask at the same time. We're talking over each other just like we used to. I mentally smack my face.

"Uh…Monday, B track."

"Oh, it's Thursday," I say casually, though my heart is breaking for him. He's been so out of it since his uncle's death. He slows to a stop next to me and we stare at each other.

"It's Thursday?" He sounds confused.

I look twice at him now that we're standing still. "What happened to your eye?" It's bruised really badly.

"What?" He blinks rather nervously.

"Your eye, it looks bruised." Oh no. He didn't get into a fight, did he?

"Oh, yeah, no, I don't…maybe I got a rash or…"

A rash. As if. But I don't press him. I tilt my head to gain a better look. "It's bad, have you gone to the nurse?" As long as he takes care of himself, I'll let him be.

He nods his head, backing away slightly. He's not leaving already, is he? Before I can think better of it, I start speaking. "Do you like branzino?"

He stares at me cluelessly.

"Like a fish," I supply.

He starts nodding. "Mm-hm. No, no. I know, I know."

Okay. That reply was…informative. "Well, if you want…" I yank open one of my notebooks and start scribbling on a blank page, "you can come to this address at 8 o'clock tonight." I rip the paper out and hand it to him. "My mom's making branzino."

I take a step or two back, then it hits me. "It's apartment 2016." I wave the hand holding the pen. "I didn't write that part down. I don't know why…" I turn to leave, shaking my head at myself.

"I'll remember it," Peter says quietly.

I turn back, unable to hide a grin. "Oh, okay. 2016," I double-check, just as a reminder, pointing my pen at him as I say it. Then I turn and flee before I can make any more of a fool of myself.

I can't believe he said yes. I'd been afraid he wouldn't, that he'd have an excuse or something. And it seems like, just maybe, he's doing better. That's the longest and most normal conversation we've had this month. Well. Except for the eye thing, and the fact that he had no clue what day it was.

But he just needs more time. And now, I hope, he'll let me be there to help him.

**Hope that this chapter doesn't sound too serious, or not serious enough. It's so much easier for me to write something sarcastic and funny, so it was hard for me to capture the more serious tone of this chapter. Leave a review please? :)**

**As always, thanks so much for taking the time to read this!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry I took so long to update! But this is a looong chapter––it's nearly twice as long as some of the others––and took a while to write, so I hope that makes up for it. :)**

**(Also, the movie gives the name of Simon, one of Gwen's brothers, but I don't recall them naming her other two, so I made up the other name I mention here. :P)**

I'm trying to study, but boy is it hard to concentrate. I keep thinking about the fact that, in less than an hour, Peter Parker will be in my home. Meeting my family. Eating dinner with us. I just hope my family won't say anything embarrassing. Mom's already been repeatedly asking me if he's my boyfriend, to which I firmly said no, and all three of my younger brothers have been teasing me nonstop. Having a friend over for dinner––a friend who is a guy––is pretty rare in the Stacey household.

My mind drifts from the textbook I'm staring at, and I turn my focus on my outfit. I'm sitting up in bed carefully, so my outfit doesn't get wrinkled. I'm wearing a comfy blue sweater that looks nice and casual. I have on one of my favorite pairs of boots, and I slipped a headband in my hair to add a girly touch.

A tap on my window jars my thoughts. I look up and break into a smile. Peter's standing outside my window, a nervous smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath, I scramble off my bed and dart over to the window, pushing it open. "Hi." I let out a short giggle, unable to hide my excitement. Oh my word, I hope I don't sound really shallow. I make a mental note to cut the constant giggling. "How did you get out there?"

"The fire escape. Your doorman's intimidating." He gives me a half-smile, pointing a finger back behind him.

I raise my eyebrows. If it was anyone else, I'd find it hard to believe them, but this is Peter. He crashed a basketball hoop into tiny little pieces, for heaven's sake. "It's twenty stories."

"Yeah. It's all right," he says nonchalantly, in that way that guys do when they're trying to act casual about something that normal people think is a big deal. He climbs in. "This is your room."

I can't stop smiling. "Yes, this is my room."

He takes a look around. "Books. Shoes."

I start laughing. That pretty much sums up my room––stacked bookshelves and piles of shoes.

"Oh hey…I got your mom, um, these." Peter pulls a bouquet of flowers out of his backpack.

They're slightly crumpled. Okay, more than slightly. I try, and finally succeed, in hiding my smile. "Oh, lovely," I tease him.

"Yeah, beautiful, right?"

"They're beautiful."

"They _were_ nice." He hides his face behind them.

"No, they're beautiful," I insist, but I'm laughing too at this point. Besides, it's the thought that counts.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's impressive. They actually held together very well." Considering they were stuffed in a backpack and hauled up twenty stories.

Peter rolls his eyes, but smiles. "I'm gonna keep these." He shoves them back down in his backpack.

"You have your suit in there?" I ask hopefully.

He freezes and looks up slowly, as if I've caught him in the middle of something illegal. "My suit?" he repeats.

"It's for dinner. Are you gonna––are you gonna wear that? That's, um––" I don't have a problem with what he's wearing, to be honest, but my parents usually dress a bit more formally for dinner. And I'm kind of trying to get Peter on their good side.

My door swings open, saving me from coming up with a non-awkward ending to my question. Only it's Dad who walks in. "Hey, hon." He pauses when he sees I'm not alone. "You must be Peter."

"Dad, this is Peter." I smile like everything's normal. Crap. This probably looks awful.

"Nice to meet you, sir." Peter steps forward to shake Dad's hand.

"Nice to meet you. Dinner's ready. Hope you like branzino." Dad smiles stiffly. I bite my lip.

"Who doesn't?" Peter asks brightly.

I try to stop gnawing on my lip as I follow Dad and Peter out into the hallway and into the dining room. Already, it seems like things are off to a bad start.

The awkwardness only continues throughout dinner. Five minutes into the meal, Peter is struggling to cut his fish properly.

Mom makes it worse by announcing it to the whole family. "You're having trouble there, aren't you? The head goes on the other––Simon. Help Gwen's friend with his fish."

"Oh, I…I got no idea." Peter gives an easy smile, leaning back so Simon can cut it.

"First time," my younger brother says with an understanding grin. I heave a sigh of relief. At least Simon's being fairly polite so far.

"Branzino," I mouth with a smile at Peter.

"George. Why don't you tell us about your day?" Mom says. Oh good, she's changing the subject.

"Oh yeah, Dad, did you catch that spider guy yet?" Nick, who's in middle school, asks.

"No, we didn't catch him yet. But we will," Dad says confidently. "He's an amateur who's assaulting civilians in the dead of night. He's clumsy, he leaves clues, but he's still dangerous."

I'm kind of tuning out Dad. Why can't we talk about school, or at least something where Peter can join the conversation?

But Peter joins the conversation right away. "He's assaulting people? I'm not sure. I mean, I saw that video…with him and the car thief, and…I think most people would say that he was…providing a public service."

I mentally slap my forehead. _Ooh, wrong thing to say, Peter. Rule number one: don't disagree with my dad's opinions._

"Most people would be wrong," Dad says, his voice stiff again but still polite. "If I wanted the car thief off the street, he'd already be off the street."

"So why wasn't he then?" Peter asks curiously.

I chuckle nervously, as if that will convey to Dad that Peter is simply joking. When, in fact, he's not.

Dad leans back, and I can tell we're in for one of his rants. "Let me illuminate you. See, the car thief was leading us to the people who run the entire operation. It's a six-month-long sting. It's called strategy. I'm sure you're aware of the term? You've probably learned about that in school?"

I close my eyes briefly. Could his tone get any more condescending?

"Yeah, yeah." Peter nods, his brow wrinkled.

"Good," Dad says shortly.

I look at Mom pleadingly. Can't she do something to make him stop? All she does is mouth, "I know."

"Obviously, he didn't know you had a plan," Peter says decisively, taking another bite of his fish.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this case." Dad tilts his head. "Do you know something that we don't know? I mean, whose side are you on here?" There's a warning in his voice. I silently pray that Peter shuts up.

"I'm not on anyone's side. I saw a video on the Internet––"

"Oh." Dad stops abruptly and looks around the table, as if expecting us to all share his humor at the idea. "You saw the video on the Internet."

I force a tight smile.

"Well, then the case is closed," Dad says with a totally fake laugh. I thought only girls fake-laughed. This is so not turning out the way I wanted.

"Well no, I'm just saying if you watch the video, maybe send you a link? It looks like he's trying to help."

_Peter, _you're _the one who's not helping right now._

"Yeah, sure, on the Internet he's being made out to look like a hero." Dad shrugs. He's put his silverware down and stopped eating completely, he's so involved in the conversation.

Peter waves his hands. "No, no. I'm not saying he's a hero. I don't think he's a hero at all."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

I wince. Dad's using his "tough policeman tone," as Nick likes to call it.

"He's trying to help. It looks like he's trying to do something maybe the police can't."

What? Where is this conversation even going? None of this is making sense anymore. Why can't both Dad and Peter just stop talking?

"Something the police can't? What do you think we do all day? You think we just sit around eating doughnuts?" Then Dad curses, something I rarely hear him do, especially in front of my younger siblings. How on _earth _has Peter managed to provoke him like this?

"George. George," Mom's saying quietly, trying to calm him down.

"Daddy," I murmur, silently begging him to stop.

Peter's not even looking at any of us, he's so intent on my father's face. "I think he stands for what you stand for, sir. Protecting innocent people from bad guys."

"I stand for law and order, son. That's what I stand for. Okay?" Dad leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath. "This guy wears a mask, like an outlaw. He's hunting down a bunch of criminals that all look the same…like he's got some sort of personal vendetta. But he's not protecting innocent people, Mr. Parker," he says with finality, and I know that at last the conversation's over. So is my appetite.

I stand to my feet. "Let's get some air, Peter." I push my chair in. "Dad, we need to talk." Why is he acting so harsh over all of this? It's not like I have friends over very often. Can't he just settle down and relax?

"Yes, we do," he says warningly.

I have to stop myself from clenching my fists as I wait at the doorway for Peter to join me. I hate it when Dad does that––treats me like a child, like I've done something wrong when I haven't.

Somehow, Peter dares to speak again. "Thank you for having me. I'm sorry if I insulted you, it was not my intention."

There. That's polite. Most teenage kids probably wouldn't even apologize, let alone have an opinion to voice on such a subject. I watch Dad's face, but his expression reveals nothing as he simply says, "You're welcome."

Peter stands. "Branzino was real good, Mrs. Stacey. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mom says softly.

I lead him out to the balcony, neither of us speaking until we're out in the open. "Well, that was something." I tug my long sleeves over my hands and walk closer to the edge.

"I'm sorry. You know, I thought he was going to arrest me at some point."

I exhale. I'm just glad that horrible dinner is over. "Nah, I wouldn't have let him arrest you." We pause and just stand there, taking in the view. Of course, it doesn't take long for me to get distracted by Peter once again. "What happened to your face?" I ask, hoping he'll tell me the truth this time.

"I wanna tell you something," Peter says at the same time.

"Oh. Okay."

"I've been bitten."

I break into a smile, my mind buzzing with what to say in reply. "So have I," I confess, leaning closer.

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I gotta tell you this one thing…I gotta tell you this one thing about the vigilante and the car thief, all right?" Peter says, ruining the moment.

Then I skip past all his "okays" and take in his words. Oh no, I've totally misread him. "Oh. Yeah, okay." I back off.

"What?" He stares into my face, as if realizing what I was thinking. "No, no, no. I don't want to talk about that. Okay no, forget that. I'm just gonna talk about me, okay?"

I'm getting a headache just thinking about how many times we've both said "okay" in our conversation. "What about you?"

He sighs, staring off as if trying to find the words. Or perhaps he's trying to find bravery to say them. "It's impos––I wish I could just––I can't. It's hard to say."

"Just say it," I beg.

"I don't know."

"Say it."

He faces away, ducking his head down. I hate it when he tries to hide himself from me. I lean forward, frantic to know what's going on in that head of his. "What? What?"

He looks up, eyes full of pain, longing, and something I can't decipher.

"What?" I whisper brokenly.

Peter shakes his head.

"Okay, then forget it," I say, cursing myself as I walk away. I've given him time, but maybe he'll just never open up to me.

Then something grabs me around the waist, and I'm spinning dizzily and wrapped in Peter's arms and he's kissing me and all other thoughts fade away.

I gasp when I pull away for air. "You…" I look down, realizing what just happened. A spider web circles around my waist, tangling me to him. His hand brushes against my cheek, pulling me closer. "You're Spider-Man," I breathe, and suddenly the whole conversation at dinner makes sense.

"Shut up," he says, and my voice becomes muffled as he kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, standing up on my tiptoes and leaning into the kiss.

"Gwen?"

Someone's talking in the distance, but I'm in too much of a happy daze to acknowledge that.

"Gwen…"

I gently break away from Peter, turning to see my mother standing in the doorway. A flush rises to my cheeks, as I remember earlier this afternoon swearing to her that he was _just _a friend, and not my boyfriend in any way.

"Your father wants you to come inside. Right away." I can tell she's flustered too.

"Okay." It's all I can think of to say.

"Okay?" Mom smiles gently at me, waiting for me to come.

"Yeah." I'm still standing here. I don't want to move.

"Gwen." She taps her foot.

"I'm coming." Reluctantly I take my first step forward, turning back to share a glance and a secret smile with Peter as I walk inside. My brain distantly realizes that, somewhere nearby, sirens are wailing. Or is that the happy, uncontrolled squealing in my head? Then realization grips me and I whirl around just in time to catch Peter jumping over the edge.

Yup. Those were definitely real-life sirens. And my sort-of-boyfriend, who's definitely the infamous Spider-Man, is going to save the day.

"Oh, I'm in trouble," I whisper.

***rubs hands nervously* So, good or bad? I'm trying my best not to make it sound like a cheesy romance, so pleeease tell me if you can think of any ways to improve it. Thank you for reading, and I'll do my best to have the next chapter up sooner than it took this time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter's pretty short, but oh well, it works since the previous one was so long. And thank you all for the lovely reviews! **

**P.S. I hope my lack of football knowledge isn't too obvious. :P**

I'm Spider-Man's girlfriend.

Spider-Man: the "criminal" that my dad is doing everything in his power to capture. Peter Parker: the sweet, nerdy guy who is my boyfriend. It's strange to think that Spider-Man and Peter are the same person.

That evening, after the infamous dinner and Peter kissing me out on the balcony, Dad had his little talk with me. Thank goodness Mom didn't mention that she caught me kissing Peter, or it wouldn't have been a talk––it would've been more like Dad shouting.

Still, it was bad enough as it was. Dad kept lecturing me on the kind of friends I was keeping, then started repeating over and over how disrespectful Peter was. I tried to tell Dad that he had been a little rude, too. He didn't react well––but in the end, he simply told me to think long and hard about spending more time with Peter.

I left it at that––I was afraid he wouldn't want me to see Peter at all, so it did feel nice that he was letting me make a few choices on my own. I know he only wants what's best for me. But the problem is, Dad doesn't see the whole picture. He doesn't know about who Peter truly is and how hard he's trying to help people.

Later the next day, I watch Dad on the news as he makes a speech following the big incident on the bridge with all the car accidents. The one that Peter ran off to. He saved people's lives on that bridge. Why does my father think Spider-Man is pure evil?

Then he announces an arrest warrant for Spider-Man. I groan, putting my head in my hands. I hadn't known that _this _would happen. What will Peter do now? I already feel guilty for keeping this from Dad. I think long and hard before coming to a decision: I'm not hiding Peter's secret identity just to be a rebellious teenager, or because I'm blinded by love, or anything silly like that. No, this is much more important. Peter is the only one who can fight this monster that hurt all those people. He must be kept a secret.

A couple days later, Peter asks if I want to hang out and talk after school. We manage to find a semi-private spot on the bleachers while football practice is going on. Not the ideal place, but we can't go to my home or his, and we need to be somewhere where we aren't heard.

"It's so beautiful." I stare at the vial he handed me with the spider in it.

"Knows how to bite, though," he says ruefully.

I hand it back to him, still a bit in wonder. The inner science geek in me is fascinated by all that Peter has told me. "Who else knows about this?"

Peter smiles and looks away, not meeting my gaze. "Just you."

"Really?" I feel a grin spread across my face, delighted at the idea.

Then, Peter's tone becomes more serious. "Hey, you don't––you don't believe what the police are saying, do you?"

That he's a criminal? That he should be locked up? I shake my head fervently. The very idea's ridiculous. "Of course not." I look up at him, curious. How can he deal with all this pressure, knowing what he's capable of and that he's considered a criminal? "Does it scare you? What you can do?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "No. No."

Such a typical Peter answer. He loves science too, so I guess it's natural that his powers are interesting. "What did that thing on the bridge look like?"

Peter faces me, and I can see the pain in his eyes. "It was real big. Too big to be human."

That's what scares me. Something that's not human? Science can't explain that. "You gotta lay low," I beg.

"No, can't do that," he murmurs determinedly.

Man, he is stubborn. "You've got to. I mean, why…?" Why can't he be sensible and think clearly about all this?

"Because of last…last night. Those people on the bridge. Whatever was attacking them would have killed them. So I…I gotta go after it." He shrugs, like it's common sense. Like it's perfectly normal to fight monsters.

"That's not your job," I whisper. It's amazing that Peter wants to protect everyone, but I'm afraid of it getting too far. His life is at stake, and he doesn't even care.

"Maybe it is." He pauses, then changes the subject, a slow smile on his face. "I really liked kissing you."

I look down, trying to hide the fact that I'm blushing. I should point out the fact that he's changing the subject––it's what the Gwen-who-never-used-to-blush would do––but honestly? I don't care right now.

"You're an amazing kisser," Peter says in a low voice. There's a hint of laughter in his voice, too, like he knows he's making me blush.

I look up and meet his eyes for a second, chuckle nervously, and look back down. I don't know where to look. And I'm still blushing! Dang it. I can feel the heat all over my face, but I'm half-grinning too. "Well, you know, it was…it was good for me too," I tease him.

"Yeah?" He leans in and kisses me softly. I close my eyes and return the kiss.

Only a few way-too-short seconds later, we break away as I hear a whooshing noise and a bang. I turn around, eyes wide, as I realize what just happened. Someone threw a football at us as we were kissing, and thanks to his extra-sharp senses, Peter caught it and threw it away.

Except…it hit the pole at the end of the football field and left a huge dent.

"Oh, you've done it now," I breathe, fighting back giggles. Peter stares, dumbfounded. I start laughing harder and grab his hand, pulling him up. "C'mon, we have to get out of here before we get in trouble."

He follows me as we rush away. I hear him chuckling behind me. "I wonder how they'll fix it."

"I can't believe you did that!" I laugh as we duck behind a tree near the sidewalk, finally alone.

He looks at me with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been distracted by kissing you."

"Well," I say, trying for a flirtatious tone, "there's no one around right now to throw any more footballs at us. So we can go back to kissing, if you'd like."

Peter grins. "I'd like that very much," he says, and leans in to kiss me again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, thinking that, despite all the troubles we're dealing with right now, I've never been happier than right now.

**I had fun writing this! I kind of thought the scene at the bleachers should be expanded a little more. ;) Hoping to have the next chapter up soon!**

**(By the way, if any of you readers happen to be fans of Downton Abbey, I'm writing a Matthew/Mary oneshot that I'll have up in about a week!)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for your patience as it takes me a while to update sometimes. School is winding up in a few more weeks for me, so things are kind of crazy as I'm trying to finish writing papers, studying for tests, etc.**

I tap away on the keyboard, ignoring the pressure of a headache forming in my temples. I really need to try and finish this paper for English tonight. _Ping. _My heart leaps in my chest, but I relax as I see the noise at my window is only Peter. "Come in," I mouth, turning back to finish typing up the paragraph I'm on.

"You should maybe consider coming in through the lobby," I suggest dryly, saving my document and exiting out of Word. "Also…" I stifle a laugh, "my father is under the impression that you require psychiatric attention."

"Oh really?" he croaks out, chuckling.

There's something wrong with his voice, despite the fact that he's trying to act normal. I spin around and realize how pale his face is and that there's blood on his suit. "Peter," I breathe, rushing over to him. "What happened?"

He leans against the wall for support. "You should see the other guy." Stumbling forward, he collapses on my chair near the wall. "The other guy, in this instance, being a giant mutant lizard."

I gasp. I _knew _this Spider-Man thing would be too dangerous for him. But of course he has to go and be a hero.

"Hey, Gwen. Honey, do you want cocoa? Howard's making some cocoa."

I freeze. Oh please, not right now. Not my dad. Of all the people who could find Peter in my room, my dad is the worst. "Shh," I order, pointing a finger at Peter while I make a mad scramble to the other end of my room. I fling my door open. "No, Dad, I do not want cocoa," I say irritably. "Honestly! I'm seventeen years old."

Dad crosses his arms as he stands in the hallway, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. "Okay, I just thought I remembered someone saying last week that her fantasy was to live in a chocolate house."

I feel a flush rising on my cheeks, knowing that Peter can hear us perfectly well right now. "Well that's impractical," I spit out, slamming my door shut, then I open it back up an inch to add, "And fattening."

I shut the door once more and sag against it, feeling frustration roll through me in waves. Already my headache is ten times worse.

Peter grins shakily from his hiding place behind my chair. "Chocolate house?" he says quietly yet impishly.

I roll my eyes. I feel kind of bad as I remember my harsh reply to my dad. I didn't mean it, of course, but he doesn't know that. Guiltily, I open my door. "Sorry, Dad."

"It's good," he assures me.

"I just can't have cocoa right now because I'm work…I'm doing this…" I wave my hand in circles as if it will somehow produce the perfect excuse. _Ah! _"I have cramps."

"Oh."

I shake my head. "I feel kind of pukey and just sort of, like, emotional. I keep crying," I say in what I hope is a sheepish tone.

He gives me a thumbs-up. "It's okay. Good."

Thank goodness. This excuse works every time, especially on guys. Funny how they get so squeamish about the details. "It's brutal. You don't want to know. It's like, bad," I say, just in case.

"Got it." Dad starts to back away, obviously hoping to escape any more information.

"Thanks, Daddy," I say with a cheerful grin, pulling back into my room. Well, that was easier than I'd expected.

Then I remember: Peter's hurt. He needs help. Running to his side, I help him back onto my couch. "What did you _do _to yourself?"

He winces as he moves to a more comfortable position. "I was in a fight. Like I said. I'll be fine."

"Oh no, you don't. I'm not letting you just get away with that. Tell me what happened." I dash over to my dresser, grab a hair clip, and pin my hair up so it's out of my face. I get a damp washcloth and bandages while Peter tells me about the fight.

I sigh when he's done. I hate this, hate being so helpless when he's in danger. Seated across from him on the couch, I finish dabbing away the blood while he clenches his jaw and pretends he's not in pain. I'd love nothing more than to freak out on him and scold him for getting hurt, but I know that's not what Peter needs right now. He needs love and gentleness.

So, to lighten the mood, I tease, "Easy, Bug Boy."

Peter chuckles. "What'd you call me?" he mutters, but when he meets my gaze, his eyes are serious and full of longing. I lean in closer, meeting him halfway for a kiss.

"I'm going to be all right," he says when he pulls away, sensing my worry like he always does.

"No. No."

"Yes, yes," he counters quietly.

I look away. Peter may have special powers, but he's not invincible. "I know what this is."

"What is it?"

I force myself to look him in the eye. "Every day, for as long as I can remember, my father has left every morning, and he's put a badge on his chest and strapped a gun to his hip." My voice remains low. If I speak any louder, I know it'll crack. "And every day, for as long as I can remember, I haven't known if he was gonna make it home." I feel tears filling up in my eyes, but I blink rapidly, unwilling to let them fall.

Peter touches my cheek gently, and I feel bad. I should be comforting him, not the other way around. But it feels good to talk honestly with him––he understands me.

"I got you," he says. "Okay? Okay? I gotta stop him, though. I have to….because I created him."

I suck in my breath. Seems like we're both spilling secrets tonight. "What do you mean?"

"I gave him an equation that made all this possible. Something my father had been working on, you know. Secretly." He shakes his head in remorse. "Now I realize why he kept it a secret. Point is, this is my responsibility. I have to fix it."

His hand is still cupping my cheek. I shift slightly to press a soft kiss against his palm. "Peter…" I don't know what to say.

Once again, Peter seems to guess my thoughts. "Hey. Let's get out of here." He shakes his head like crazy, and I laugh as his hair, still damp from the fight, scatters water droplets everywhere. "Let's just get out of here. Just for a minute. Can we?"

I'm tempted, but it's a bad idea. "No."

"Yes," he begs.

"No."

"Yes."

"If my parents see me leaving, I'm dead," I point out.

A slow grin spreads across his face. "Your parents aren't going to see you leaving."

Less than five minutes later, I'm clinging to Peter and shrieking with excitement as we spin and drop and fly through the air. I've never been crazy about heights, but now I'm beginning to see the appeal of this whole flying thing.

I feel like the princess in a fairytale, flying into the sunset with her prince. Silly, I know. And I realize that sooner or later––scratch that, probably just sooner––we're going to have to defeat a "dragon," in our case, a giant mutant lizard. But for now, I'm happy to have a brief moment of happiness and escape––I have a feeling we won't have much longer till the fight begins.

***squeal* There are some very exciting action scenes coming up. Can't wait to get to those. As always, thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites, they are so very encouraging to me!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Since the story is getting to the climax, I'm guessing there will probably be 2-3 more chapters until it's over. Thanks for sticking with me and continuing to read this, everyone. :)**

It seems like we've finally settled back into the normal routine of things. I admit, I was pretty stressed out that night when Peter and I were flying through the air together, but now nearly a week has passed. Life seems to be okay. I can focus on studying for tests and exams without having to constantly fret about my boyfriend's other life as a wanted criminal. Believe me, it's a relief to let myself worry over if I'll get an A or not on my next science test, rather than how much longer Peter and I have together.

But I guess I was simply ignoring the inevitable, as I discover later that week. On an afternoon near the end of the school day, it happens. I'm standing next to Peter, putting my textbooks away in my locker, when a crash and the shouts of students attract my attention.

My head flies up to see. The creature––the former Dr. Connors––bursts through the wall.

In the brief second that I have to think, my heart sinks. _No, not today. _I don't want to have to deal with this. Not now, when I'm not ready.

"Go, go!" Peter cries. He's pushing at my shoulders, trying to get me to move.

If this were a cheesy superhero movie, and I was, like, Wonder Woman or something, I'd stay here and fight at Peter's side. But I know I have to be sensible; I'd make things worse rather than better. My skill is my intelligence, not my physical fighting skills (or lack thereof).

I take off, but not without a backwards glance. I can't leave Peter to face the creature completely alone. I have to help somehow. An idea forms in my head, and I run out of the hallway as fast as I can.

Down another hallway, past a few classrooms, and then I reach the library, which is fortunately empty right now. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the big trophy on display upon one of the tables. Exactly what I need. I snatch it up and run back to the hallway.

Peter's not there. Darn. It seems like almost everyone has gotten out by now, so I listen for the noise of fighting. A few hallways down, I think I hear footsteps. I run as fast as I can.

There they are! I have to fight a horrified squeal from leaving my lips. Connors is slamming Peter's head against the window. I let out a quiet gasp, wincing internally as the glass cracks from the force of the blow. _It's now or never, Gwen._

Keeping my footsteps silent, I run up to the creature. Without hesitation, I whack him in the head with the trophy.

Connors releases Peter and he heaves a jagged sigh, breathing in as much air as he can.

"Gwen," Connors growls.

Uh-oh. Not good. Maybe upsetting the giant mutant lizard was a bad idea. I back away, clutching the trophy as if it'll protect me. Yeah, right. In a Disney movie, this would be the moment where I'd bust out in song and the trophy would turn into a magical weapon. Oh, how I wish real life was like a Disney movie.

Still…I may not have the magical weapons, or even the singing abilities of Disney princesses, but one thing I _do _have is a Prince Charming to save the day.

Now that Connors is distracted with me, Peter jumps at the opportunity. He shoots silk at the creature until he's covered, tying him to the roof and walls until he's completely trapped in a web. Then Peter latches the silk onto the trophy (which for some insensible reason, I'm still clutching) and pulls me forward.

Completely speechless, I grab onto Peter's shoulders. I realize now is not the best moment to get lost in my boyfriend's eyes, but I freely admit that I am staring deeply into them.

"I'm gonna throw you out the window now," Peter whispers.

Reality crashes me out of my daydream. Wait, wait. Not the romantic words I was waiting to hear.

I barely have time to squeak out, "What?" before Peter throws the trophy at the window, effectively breaking it open, and tosses me out.

For one split second, I'm sailing through the air––faster than any rollercoaster I've ever been on, and feeling much more scared than I ever did on a coaster. Then a strand of spider's silk swings around my waist, catching me.

I've studied the silk of a spider since finding out about Peter's abilities. So I know that a spider's silk is incredibly strong and can withstand many forces. But somehow, I'm still astonished that the flimsy-looking web holds my weight and keeps me from falling.

Unconsciously, I squeal and grab onto the silk. My heartbeat slowly returns to normal as I swing back and forth. Looking up, I see Peter standing at the window to make sure I'm okay.

I let out a sigh of relief and lower myself to the ground, untangling from the spider's web around my waist. For now, Connors is captured, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that it will last for long. Like it or not, Peter is going to have to fight Connors again.

Right now, I guess the best thing for me to do is help people. I walk around the school yard, making sure everyone's out of the building, letting people borrow my cell phone to call loved ones, and comforting kids who are scared. A few ambulances eventually pull up––apparently some people were injured.

"Here. Thanks for letting me use it." A preteen girl with braces and frizzy hair wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket as she hands me back my cell.

"No problem. Is everything okay?" I ask gently.

"My mom's coming to pick me up," she says. I pat her on the shoulder and walk a little farther away, trying to find somewhere quiet. It's my turn now. I've given Peter a little while, so I'm going to call and check up on him. Sirens wail in the distance as more ambulances arrive, but I don't pay attention. All I hear is the ringing in my ear as I wait for Peter to answer my call.

"Hey."

I slump in relief when I hear his voice. "Where are you?" I ask, doing my best to sound calm.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," he assures me, knowing how worried I am. "I'm down in the sewer, tracking him. I gotta stop him before anyone gets hurt. But we need an antidote. Do you know how to run a serum?"

Down in the sewer? Oh no. At least I can finally help out; running a serum is easy. "Yeah, I do it for Connors all the time." Just mentioning his name makes me want to gag. I pity him and fear him at the same time. It's almost impossible to believe what he's turned into.

"Okay, great. Listen, I need you to go to Oscorp. I need you to access the cross-species file. It's in a blue serum. File 12389," Peter says, listing off the numbers slowly so I'll remember.

I bite my lip. I want to stay on the phone and talk to him, just to have the comfort of hearing his voice. But it's not safe for him to continue talking when he's trying to sneak up on Connors. And I need to get to Oscorp. "Okay, got it. On my way."

Less than twenty minutes later, I've made it through loads of traffic, into Oscorp, and now I just have to wait for the antidote to finish cooking. I'm alone in the lab, but there's a nervous fluttering in my stomach. I feel like at any moment, something's going to jump out at me. I practically do a ninja move when my cell phone rings, I'm so high-strung.

"Hi," I say, glad when my voice comes out confident and sure.

"Hey, where are you?"

I smile at the irony. He sounds every bit as nervous as I'm feeling right now. "Peter, hi. I'm at Oscorp."

"You have to get out of there right now, okay?" His voice is more panicked than I've ever heard it.

My smile fades as I take in what he's said. But, stubborn as ever, I refuse to yield to him. "The antidote is cooking."

"No, no, no. Connors is on the way, he's coming to you right now. He needs the device. He's gonna infect the whole city!" Peter's definitely freaking out. His voice gets louder with each sentence.

I chew on my lip. If what he says is true, then we need the antidote now more than ever. My inner self may be having a hysterical breakdown, but I know I have to stay here for now. "There's eight minutes left." That monster may be fast, but surely I can stay safe for less than ten minutes.

"You're gonna wait there for eight minutes after what I just told you?" Peter nearly screams.

I cringe. When he puts it that way, it does sound like I've just signed my death sentence. But it's either that or the death of the whole city. Besides, Peter's done his part by fighting Connors and saving people. It's my turn to do something. If I don't do it, who else will?

"People are gonna die," he begs me. "You leave right now. Listen, that is an order, okay?"

Exactly, Peter. People are going to die; which is why I have to do something. My eyes widen as I realize there are still employees working here at Oscorp. They need to get out right now. "I'm going to get everybody out."

"Did you hear what––"

I cut him off and flip my phone shut, hoping he'll forgive me. _Oh yes, Peter, I heard what you said. Which is why I have to do this._

I stride over to the door and type in the code for emergency evacuation. The whole time, my heart pounds––louder than it's ever pounded around Peter, even louder than it's ever pounded when we kiss. But I can also feel the satisfaction of doing the right thing. No matter what may come, I won't regret my actions. This is something I have to do.

**Eek! I love the scene that's coming up next, where Gwen is hiding from Connors. Can't wait to write it. And I'm finished with a few of my school subjects, so I'm going to do my best to update more frequently!**


	10. Chapter 10

**You'll notice that in this chapter, I added in more scenes/thoughts that I came up with on my own, rather than from the movie, as Gwen doesn't have a big role in this scene. I'll be doing the same thing with the next and final chapter as well.**

I'm alone now. I can't believe I had the guts to actually do this––shut myself in here when I _know _this will be the first place Connors will go.

How much longer do I have? He could be here any minute. I frantically look around the large room. I need to find a hiding place and a weapon. My first thought is the closet on the wall. Yes, it's terribly obvious, but where else is there to hide? Under a table? He'd immediately spot me.

Now for a weapon. I'm pretty sure there's a welding torch in here somewhere. I hunt through the closet until I find it. Not the ideal weapon (I'd rather have a gun), but still effective enough in an emergency.

I check on the antidote. Only a few minutes left. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that the next few minutes will go smoothly and I'll be safe until the antidote finishes. After all, what could happen in a few minutes?

But I've learned a lot from having a dad who's a policeman, so I know I have to be extra-cautious. I go ahead and climb into the closet, pulling the door shut and locking it. Not much point in locking it, since the lizard can tear this door open in two seconds flat, but whatever. Locking it makes me feel just a little safer, a little more in control, however untrue that may be.

Just as I get myself safely tucked away and comfortable, I hear a crash in the distance. My heart jolts, and my body tenses. Somewhere in this building, the lizard has found his way in and is on his way to find me.

I think of how easily he attacked those people on the bridge mere days ago. How there was nothing they could do to fight back. Then I think of what a pathetic hiding place this is, and the fact that I'm on my own. I don't have Spider-Man nearby to come save me. I, Gwen Stacey, am going to have to attack a monstrous creature with nothing but a welding torch.

Come on, isn't the antidote nearly done? I need to get out of here soon. My muscles are completely locked up, ready to bolt just as soon as it's safe for me to go.

Then the wall crashes in. I stiffen even more than I already was, if that's possible, and press my back against the closet wall. I can hear the sounds of Connors moving around. I shut my eyes, feeling sweat roll off my forehead. I try to keep my breaths calm and level. If I'm panicking and breathing hard, he'll be able to hear me.

I open my eyes again, unwilling to let Connors get out of sight. I need to watch. I need to be ready. My heartbeat quickens as I stare through the cracks in the door, watching the lizard slither past. If he looks closely, he can see me. I know that the darkness isn't enough to hide me.

Then he jumps in front of the door, hissing.

I scream at the top of my lungs. It's even louder than I've ever screamed at a spider, which is a pretty legit accomplishment. Connors reaches out just one claw and tears the door open. I freak out, sweaty hands slipping on the welding torch till I have a good grip, then I aim at the lizard and fire rushes out.

Connors steps back, disappearing from sight, as I collapse onto the floor in a shuddering mess. I wait a second, listening, but I don't hear any sound. Did he leave? Amazed, I pull myself to my feet and cautiously peer out the closet.

No way. He's gone. I exhale a heavy breath as I realize just how lucky I am.

"Antidote complete."

My lips curve up in a smile. Perfect timing.

Less than a minute later, I'm rushing out of Oscorp with the antidote in hand. I keep having mini heart attacks at every turn in the hallway, afraid that Connors is waiting to jump out at me. I wish there weren't so many floors in this building; it takes way too long to get to the bottom. I keep assuring myself with each floor I pass that I'm one floor closer to getting out of here.

I consider calling Peter again, but I'm afraid to risk it. I could interrupt him in the middle of fighting Connors (that's to say if the lizard has even left the building––or if Peter's here yet) and I don't want him to get distracted by his cell phone ringing. Instead, I continue to race as fast as possible to the exit at the bottom of the building. Once I'm outside, I'll see if I can find Peter or else try texting him. Whatever happens, he needs to get the antidote as soon as possible.

By the time I make it outside, I'm surprised I can still breathe. I'm kind of wishing I took more sports in school, because I could've really used the cardio. I probably look like a crazy maniac––my hair's tangled worse than a rat's nest, my clothes are rumpled, and I'm gasping like I'm about to have a heart attack. Not to mention I _feel _like I'm having a heart attack!

To top it all off, my dad has just parked his car near the sidewalk and is getting ready to walk into Oscorp.

I'm both frustrated and relieved at the same time. I'm mad that my dad's here because I know it means all my secrets are out. It means he's going to stop me from helping fix things. But I'm also relieved, because every single girl who's been scared out of her wits, no matter what her age, finds comfort in the sight of her daddy. I want to go hug him, but I think I'll pass out from exhaustion if I move anymore, so I stay still.

"Hey," Dad says, striding up to me. His tone is so neutral, I can't tell what he's thinking.

"Dad!" I flounder for words, but I latch on to the only semi-coherent excuse I have. "I have to get this to Spider-Man." I hold up the antidote in my shaking hand. It's _shaking_? I'm pretty sure that's a sign that I'm dehydrated, or something equally bad.

I guess Dad realizes I'm trembling, because he grabs my arms and steadies me. "Get in the car, let's go."

He's not listening. I knew he would be like this. "No," I plead. I _have _to convince him. "No. It can stop the lizard."

"Get in the car."

Did he even hear what I said? My irritation grows, and I find the strength to lash out, "You don't understand!"

Dad looks me in the eye. "Yes, I do. Your boyfriend is a man of many masks. I get it. Give me this."

Well, maybe he was listening to some of it. I let him take the antidote out of my still-shaking hand.

"Get in the car," he repeats. Isn't that like the third time he's said that? Okay, fine, I guess he's not the only one with listening issues.

Another policeman that I vaguely recognize––he's one of Dad's colleagues, and must have ridden here with him––grabs my shoulder, half-supporting me, half-dragging me to the car. I look back at Dad, feeling waves of helplessness wash over me. "Please make sure he's okay."

I'm surprised when I feel dampness on my cheeks. I've been sobbing and didn't even realize it. I sniffle, but it's no use stopping now that I've started, and tears continue rolling down my face. I wait until I see Dad nod through my blurry vision, then step into the car.

I bury my face in my hands and pray that Peter will be okay. He has to be. I've done my part, and there's nothing more I can do. Now I just get to sit back and wait until this is all over.

**One more chapter to go! Please leave a review, I would love to hear some thoughts since the story's about to wrap up.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, this is it! The last chapter. This story has taken me several months to write, but I've loved writing it and getting to explore Gwen's character, and I hope you've enjoyed it too. Thanks for taking the time to read this!**

Somehow, I know it before the policeman even knocks on our door.

I was mad during the whole car ride, when the policeman dropped me off at my house and my mother rushed to worry over me. Now it's late into the night and Mom keeps telling me to make me go to bed, but I'm stubborn. I sit on the couch, watching the news on TV. I nearly cry with relief when I see that Peter has done it, that he's defeated Connors and saved the whole city. But the whole time, a voice inside me is screaming, _What about Daddy? He's important too. He helped save everyone. Why isn't there anything about him?_

That's when I start feeling worried. My stomach clenches up and I start feeling nauseated, like I'm going to be sick any minute. I stay curled up against the couch, tucked up into a little ball, and feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. I wish I hadn't yelled at Dad when he just wanted what was best for me. Right now, I'm not Spider-Man's girlfriend. I'm just a little girl who wants nothing more than for her daddy to come home and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and tell her stories about his day.

All these terrifying imaginings of what could've happened to him run through my head. I don't know how long I stay frozen like that, in a curled up position, my eyes welling up with unshed tears. After some time, I hear a knock on the door. Mom answers it. There's silence for a second, horrible silence in which I can guess the truth. Why else would someone be knocking? There's no need for Daddy to knock. I've memorized the sound he makes when he comes home, and this is not it.

Then I hear Mom's muffled sobs, and the tears begin to run down my own cheeks. And I wish over and over again that I could go back and redo my last moment with my daddy so I could tell him how much I love him.

_One week later:_

I'm glad it's raining.

It seems only appropriate, on a day such as this, that it should rain. The day of my father's funeral. My eyes tear up without my even realizing it. It's funny. You'd think after a week of sleepless nights where I cry myself to sleep, and days where the most random thing will send me into tears, I wouldn't have any more tears left to cry. But of course I do. He's my daddy.

I've always known that it was a possibility, that his job could get him killed. I'd even said such things to Peter before. But why, oh why did it have to actually happen?

The only consolation is that he died a hero's death. That's the one thing that comforts me. The fact that my father saved the city. He's always been a hero to me, but now he'll be remembered as a hero to the whole world.

I adjust my grip on my umbrella, and as I do so, I catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of my eye. I tilt my head back, thinking for some reason that it was Peter. But he's not there, because that would be ridiculous. He hasn't showed up at all in the past few days that I've spent trying to recover from my father's death. Why should he show up now, when I need him most?

I push away all thoughts of Peter, which is an easy thing to do. I'm too overcome with grief to focus on much else. I let the rain falling on my face blend with my tears, till the only way I can tell them apart is the salty taste of my tears dripping onto my lips.

_Later that day:_

I have to do this. I just have to know why he hasn't showed up. Why he's not man enough to apologize or even acknowledge me.

Besides, it's a welcome distraction. I've been numb all week, lost in grief. I want to feel something besides numbness, and confronting Peter will surely do the trick.

Then he opens the door, and my thoughts drift from my mind. Seeing his face is more painful than I'd anticipated. It brings back a load of bittersweet memories. "Where have you been?" I whisper, my voice cracking and broken.

He doesn't meet my gaze. "Hi."

That's all he has to say? "My father died. There was a funeral. They shot off…" Tears flood my eyes all over again, and I know I can't stop the crying or wavering in my voice. Still, I plunge on. Peter needs to know, needs to understand what he's put me through. "…rifles, and they made speeches. Two of my teachers showed up. And Flash showed up." I blink and nod at the wonder of it, at the idea that a guy like Flash could show up and my own boyfriend was too much of a wimp to be there for me. "Everyone was there but you."

By this point, my nose is running. I wipe my nose on my sleeve and try to muster what little dignity I have left. Then, Peter reaches forward and touches my cheek. My eyes shoot up to his, barely daring to hope. But he's shaking his head.

"Can't do this. Can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't. I can't…"

I blink and try to decipher what his vague words mean. "What are you saying?"

"I can't see you anymore. I can't."

'I can't.' I think he's clarified that enough already. I wish I could smack him across the face, but some little voice inside is telling me that's not what he deserves. That he's hurting too.

I give up. If he 'can't do this,' then I sure as heck am not going to sit around when he's clearly not interested. We're just not meant to be, and that's all there is to it. I push my umbrella up and march off his porch. This didn't turn out as I'd hoped. I didn't get any answers, and I'm too emotionally weak to try to protest anymore.

I've only taken a few steps when a realization hits me. Why on earth didn't I realize this before? It makes perfect sense. I freeze and look back. "He made you promise, didn't he? To stay away from me, so I'd be safe."

Peter says nothing, which only confirms the truth. I stare at him, but he keeps looking straight at the ground. He swallows, and I know, I _know_, that he feels guilty. That he'd be there for me if he could. But of course my father had to do what he thought was right. Of course he had to protect me even after he was gone.

I don't know whether I'm relieved or upset. I don't know what to think at all, except that I'm still mad at Peter, and I need time to process all this. So I walk away without looking back once.

_One month later:_

Peter and I haven't talked once since I confronted him in the rain. I'm okay with that. I've kind of needed this time to myself so I can recover. And surprisingly, I _have _managed to recover, at least somewhat. Life is totally different without my father, but my family's learned to manage. We're not back to normal just yet, but eventually we will be.

Now, as I slam my locker shut and head to my next class, I wonder if Peter and I will ever be back to normal. I'm not quite sure if I've forgiven him, or exactly what he did wrong in the first place anyway.

As I walk into class, my eyes automatically scan the room for Peter, but I don't see him. I feel my cheeks flush as I take a seat. He hasn't given a single sign that he's still interested in me, so I really need to stop wondering about him all the time.

I do a little jump a second later when my teacher speaks. "Mr. Parker, tardy again. Well, at least we can always count on you."

It's Peter. Oh my word, he's walking towards me. _He's sitting in the seat right behind me. _Granted, it is the only empty seat left in the room, but hey, it's something.

"Sorry, Miss Ritter. Won't happen again, I promise," Peter says.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she says dryly, before spinning on her heel to write on the chalkboard.

"Yeah, but those are the best kind," Peter whispers, in a voice so soft that only I hear.

I freeze up at his reference. What does he mean? Is he willing to start over with me and break his promise to my father? Slowly, my face stretches into a smile.

Then I realize what I just did. I've hardly smiled at all in the past month, and now Peter has just managed to make me smile without even thinking about it.

I have a feeling that he's just what I need to make a fresh start. That maybe, finally, we can have a future together.

**YAY! Can we just all bask in the adorableness that is Peter and Gwen? I've had so much fun writing this, and I like to think that, in their own way, Peter and Gwen get a happy ending. **

**Please leave a review! I'd love to know what you think now that the story's over.**


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